


Ex Umbra: from shadow

by xenoglossia (oncharredwings)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Angels, Apocalypse, Archangels, Demon Deals, Demon Hunters, Demons, First Dates, Heaven, Hell, M/M, Smoking, Souls, Supernatural AU - Freeform, angel shiro, demon keith
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-08-09 02:40:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16441457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncharredwings/pseuds/xenoglossia
Summary: In Heaven, a war is taking place between angels and archangels,  and Shiro - a seraph - is tired of the unrest. He calls upon Akira, now known as Keith, to assist him in regaining control over Heaven's reign. Unfortunately, for Shiro, Keith has a soft spot for the angel.When the war in Heaven turns into the Apocalypse, only one demon and one angel can team up to stop Lucifer before the world ends.That is if they can get along.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raitoningu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raitoningu/gifts).



> Hello everyone, I know you've all been salivating for this fic for a while now and I've been dying to release it and today is the day! I can't wait to share this story with you all and I hope you are all as happy with it as I am writing it. Thank you to Sa for being the sounding board at really weird hours of the day because our timezones can never align, and thank you for drawing such an amazing comic, and also agreeing to even do this SPN AU. Pretty sure the convo went something like: 
> 
> Me: So, you know we both used to be into SPN, Keith would be a great demon, imagine Shiro as Castiel  
> Sa: .....  
> Me: If you want to draw this comic, I'll write the story for the zine  
> Sa: -sighs- let me get my sketchbook 
> 
> This first chapter will be featured in "Promise" a Sheith zine by Sa which will be up for pre-order soon so look out on Twitter for the announcement!
> 
> I do add tags as I go, please check frequently 
> 
> I will be updating every Sunday (unless something dire happens and then I will make sure to make an announcement on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/pining_sheith). I am moving next weekend so I may not have time to put a chapter up on 11/11/2018 but I will do my damndest to try!
> 
> Now, enough of my rambling, let's get to what you guys are here for, the story :) Enjoy!

Bone from a black cat, graveyard dirt, and a photograph buried in a box at the crossroads. Dirt under his fingernails the only remaining visual evidence of his current sin. The moon hides behind the clouds, not daring to shed light on the unholy deal about to take place on an October night. Shiro tries not to think too hard on the implications of summoning a crossroads demon.

The world stands still when the demon appears in a cloud of burgundy smoke. The demon seems young, barely in his twenties with a cigarette hanging from his mouth whilst he pats his jacket for a lighter. All for show, they both know the demons needs no man-made aide to light the cigarette.  Shiro also knows the demon is older than his vessel looks.

Finally, the demon finds a silver Zippo and lights the end of the cigarette cherry red. The embers light up his eyes and Shiro watches them turn red, too.

“My favorite holy tax accountant,” the demon greets while blowing smoke over his shaggy black hair. Bags under his eyes betray his vessel’s youth.

“Akira,” Shiro greets tersely. A lowly crossroads demon. Shiro recognizes his ugly mug from across a few centuries. “New vessel?”

“It’s Keith, now,” Keith smiles wickedly in the dark, his eyes glowing with pleasure. “And isn’t he quite lovely?”

“Isn’t he a little young for you?”

Keith laughs, a sharp whip across Shiro’s resolve. “Is he not to your taste? I picked him up at a crossroads just like this one. Fool wanted more time on his contract but it was time to collect and his physique keeps me young.”

Shiro snorts and regards Keith’s many tattoos – the ones he can see – along with the long black hair and the multiple silver piercings. “Looks like you picked him up at a discount laundromat.” Shiro knows his joke doesn’t quite fit the situation but he also knows Keith appreciates his bad humor.

Keith laughs and steps closer until Shiro has to look down to see his eyes. “So, tell me Feathers, what can I do for you?”

Shiro takes an unnecessary deep breath but the demon causes his thoughts to stutter and stop so maybe it is necessary. “I need more power.”

Keith recoils slightly, both of his eyebrows disappearing behind a thick curtain of wispy bangs. “Power? What for?”

“As you know, Heaven is at war and it is pure chaos. I am sure from a demonic standpoint, that is preferred, but from where I stand, I no longer wish to watch my brethren tear each other to pieces.” Shiro shuts his eyes as he recalls the bloodbath of the foot soldiers slaughtered by archangels.

And for what?

Control? Power?

Shiro wants to return balance to Heaven and regain peace for the angels but he knows he’ll have to play dirty. Thus, he stands staring a hungry demon in the eye.

“ _You_ , Mr. Righteous, want to _cull_ your fellow angels with _my_ help. How Shakespearean. Wouldn’t _Daddy_ disapprove of your actions, Feathers?”

Shiro looks away as he thinks on a Father he’s never seen or met. “God is gone… Someone has to end this before there are no angels left in Heaven.”

“So, _you_ will?” Keith almost giggles he seems so giddy. “How… _ironic_.”

“Do you want the deal or not?” Shiro demands, his patience wearing painfully thin.

As an angel of the Lord, Shiro knows he cannot ever allow emotions to rule him and a baby demon is nothing in the grand scheme. With more power, he can finally end the archangels’ terror over Heaven. He just needs to last through this painful meeting of the minds.

Keith smiles faintly. “I only deal in souls, Feathers, and _you_ have no soul to sell.”

“I do not,” he concedes. “But Heaven is full of souls.”

Part of Shiro knows it is wrong to gamble souls for the price of power but... desperate times. God is gone, Heaven is in shambles, and there is no one to stop him from making this offer.

“Wow,” Keith muses and steps too close. Shiro presses his blade against the demon’s stomach to stop him. Keith smirks with unabashed amusement. “Is that your angel blade or are you just happy to see me?”

“No games,” Shiro says firmly. “Name your price, swine.”

Keith pouts like his feelings are hurt but Shiro knows demons do not have feelings. “One hundred _thousand_ souls to Hell for eternity.”

Shiro blinks as Keith’s steep price smacks him in the face. “Are you out of your mind-.”

“One _hundred_ _thousand_ souls, Feathers. I do not believe I stuttered. Oh, and I want a piece.” Keith pulls out another cigarette and slips it between his lips, lighting the end to only blow smoke in Shiro’s face.

A frown creases Shiro’s brows and he blows the smoke away. “A piece of what?”

Keith looks him up and down while smirking lasciviously. “You know.”

The demon’s implications are clear even for Shiro – the demon wants _him_ , most likely in bed. Shiro’s face flushes and he feels his eyes glow in warning. “I wish to speak with your superior.”

Keith pulls back and cups his ear, tossing the cigarette away. “Oh, what’s that? Ring-ring, ring-ring.” He pulls out a black cell phone and holds the device to his ear. “Hello? Yes, the angel wishes to speak to my supervisor– Oh, wait.” He pretends to end the call. “That’s me.”

“No,” Shiro snarls. “You’re a lowly crossroads demon–.”

“Wrongo.” Keith wags a long finger on each syllable. “You’ve been so busy fighting your holy war, you've missed quite a bit of politics, Feathers.”

“Why do I have a feeling you’re about to fill me in?” Shiro asks dully. Keith grates on his nerves like poisonous thorns. He knows if he treads too lightly the thorns will prick too deep.

“You see, Feathers, Hell was also without a ruler with Lucifer out of commission. He's been locked away for quite some time now, like a bad boy,” Keith says and whips out another cigarette to smoke casually.

“You shouldn’t smoke those,” Shiro says.

“Why? Will it kill me?”

“Your vessel–.”

“Is already dead,” Keith spits back sharply. “I’m simply wearing him to prom.”

Shiro recoils like the demon’s words were stinging. “He’s dead already?”

“I killed him. I’m a demon.” Keith rolls his eyes. “Back to my story, Feathers, stop interrupting me. Without a leader, we demons were divided and leaderless. Scattered all over… but, you see, _someone_ had to take the throne. Someone had to _take_ that power.”

Keith’s tone leaves chills running down his spine and the realization finally strikes him solidly in the chest. No longer simply a crossroads demon, Keith is something with far more power than he ever could have imagined. “You,” he whispers a twinge of horror rasping his voice.

“You should bow and call me Your Majesty. That’s how you treat kings,” Keith purrs and finishes his third cigarette.

“King…”

“King of Hell.” Keith grins and steps close to Shiro again but is sure to stay out of reach of the angel blade. “Turn you on, Feathers? Or maybe it just turns on your vessel?”

“That’s _enough_ ,” Shiro snarls and thunder and lightning crash overhead as his rage manifests.

Keith shivers and his eyes flutter shut for a moment. When he opens them again they’re still red and glowing softly. “You give me tingles, Feathers.”

“One hundred thousand souls are out of the question.”

“Then your deal is off the table and you are officially wasting my time.” Keith turns to go but Shiro is suddenly standing in front of him. “Oh, _scary_ ,” Keith whispers.

One hundred thousand souls. Fury races through Shiro as the demon asks for such a steep price but he knows that’s exactly why he did so. He turns his eyes to the sky and wonders if God will cast him from Heaven when he returns for doing something so terrible. “That’s… too much…” Shiro whispers, but he can feel his morals melting.

“One hundred thousand souls and your feathery ass is all mine for twenty-four hours,” Keith says and suddenly a long contract is in his hand, rolling to the ground. “Do we have a deal, Shiro?”

Shiro runs his eyes down the contract and knows this is the only way. He has no choice. “Yes, we have a deal. One hundred thousand souls in Hell and… you will have me for twenty-four hours to do as you please.”

Keith smirks and the contract lights into a bright red fire, the same color as Keith’s eyes, and suddenly Keith’s name appears on the bottom in an old language Shiro can barely stand to look at. It takes him a moment to realize the name is written in a demon tongue. He flinches and signs his name alongside Keith’s, written in Enochian. The contract disappears from Keith’s hands but Shiro knows the deal is not done.

All demons deals are sealed with a kiss.

“You know what’s next, Feathers,” Keith purrs and steps close until they’re chest to chest. He lightly runs his fingers along Shiro’s jawline.

“Make it quick,” Shiro mumbles even though he can feel his vessel’s heart pounding rapidly.

Keith smiles and laces his fingers around Shiro’s tie, pulling him down for a full kiss, tongue immediately sliding into Shiro’s mouth. Dread fills Shiro’s entire body but the kiss still leaves him breathless. Keith tastes of sulfur and ash, his experienced tongue commanding Shiro’s clumsy mouth. Reluctantly, Keith pulls back from the kiss as they seal the deal, his mouth pink and puffy from the extended kiss.

“You taste like more, Feathers,” Keith whispers. “I can’t wait to try you on for size.”

Shiro looks away and straightens his lapels. “Are we finished? I have work to do.”

“Transfer the souls to Hell and I’ll see you again tomorrow night.”

Shiro sighs but nods and with a snap and will of his fingers, innocent souls are transferred into Hell. He immediately hears their screams echoing around his mind. He winces and shuts his eyes. When he opens them, Keith is gone and the crossroads is empty. Shiro shudders and with a flap of his wings, he returns to Heaven, angel blade in hand.

Thunder echoes in his wake.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I've made a playlist to go in tandem with the fic, you can find that playlist [here](https://youtu.be/2XjqGn2VsIE)

_ Nightside.  _

Shiro looks up at the nightclub, neon lights highlighting the old building and swathing it in a hot red light. The club’s address had appeared in his palm on a burned slip of paper while hunting down more of the archangels’ allies.

Keith’s club. Apparently, this is where he’s to meet the demon for their night of debauchery. Nightside pulses and throbs while Shiro attempts to fly inside but only makes it as far as the lobby where people wait in line for entry. Everyone behind him bemoans his sudden appearance but Shiro ignores them.

“Who’s the dick in the trench coat?” Someone asks. 

Shiro steps up to the bouncer, eyes flickering over the lesser demon unimpressed. 

“Password,” the bouncer snarls. 

“I don’t have one,” Shiro replies already tiring of Keith’s games. 

“No password, no entry,” the demon replies its eyes turning pitch black. 

“Your boss is expecting me,” Shiro says darkly. “You wouldn’t want to be the reason he comes down here upset, do you?”

The demon bouncer pauses but the threat of Keith coming downstairs without warrant is convincing enough. The demon steps aside and Shiro enters, walking down the hallway toward the main entryway of the club. Again, he attempts to travel inside to Keith by wing but something stops him. A frown creases his brow when he sees angelic symbols above the main doorway. 

More games. 

He can’t fly freely inside which if he wasn't in such a foul mood about this night to begin with, he’d call it smart, but for now he simply calls it annoying. Shiro steps into the club, angel blade tucked up his sleeve just in case, and his eyes trailing the crowd for a sign of messy hair and red eyes.

Demons crawl all over each other, clawing at clothes and swapping saliva like humans, as they gyrate to what Shiro supposes is supposed to be music. He shudders at all of the obscenities taking place all around him. He keeps to the edges of the crowd and is ready to give up when a hand wraps around his shoulder and turns him around.

“Hello, lover,” Keith purrs, his eyes shifting to red in a blink.

“I am most certainly  _ not _ your lover,” Shiro growls, pulling from Keith’s grip. The demon makes his skin crawl. 

“Tonight,” Keith says and in a blink, they’re suddenly in an office with a desk and a couch, the nightclub pulsing beneath their feet. “You will be.” 

“No tricks, no lies, no–.”

“Yes, I know,” Keith cuts him off and slings an arm around his shoulders much to Shiro’s disdain. “Tell me, Feathers, do you have the power of God and anime on your side?” 

Shiro frowns, trying to compute the demon’s question. The smirk on Keith’s face tells him he’s joking but the joke is clearly above his comprehension. “Who is Anna-May?” 

The smirk drops from Keith’s face and he groans like he’s vexed. “ _ Anime _ – it’s… I cannot believe you’ve been alive since your Daddy said, ‘Let there be light’, and you don’t know what anime is.” 

“Anna-May,” Shiro repeats.

Keith sighs. “ _ Well _ , I was going to treat myself to an evening of hot wings, that’s you Feathers, but  _ clearly _ we have a new mission. Damn, I even dressed up for this.” 

Shiro looks Keith over, eyes roaming over his black jeans, black boots, red t-shirt, and a frayed denim jacket with a frown. “You look exactly the same.” 

“Um, I found jeans without holes, I  _ brushed _ my hair, and I cleaned my nail polish off for  _ you _ , Feathers.” 

“Why?”

“Because this is a  _ date _ ,” Keith says. “Even bought flowers.” Keith turns to produce a bouquet of wilted, dead flowers. “They weren’t dead when I bought them.”

Shiro takes the ugly bouquet and sees Keith’s eager face. He has to restrain from rolling his eyes. “When did you buy them?” 

“Today– I tend to kill plant life. Do you not like them?” 

Shiro tries to picture Keith going to a florist to pick out the perfect bouquet and wonders if the establishment is still standing considering what he’d done to one batch of flowers. “Is the building still intact?” 

Keith frowns. “Why wouldn’t it– wait. Did you just crack a joke?”

Shiro shrugs and sends the flowers away with a gesture. He’ll think on the implications of a demon buying an angel flowers later. “Perhaps.”

Keith’s laugh is loud and Shiro is sure any passerby would assume Keith is over exaggerating but Shiro knows better. Keith is the only one to ever find him even remotely humorous. “Well,” Keith says as he wipes tears from his eyes. “We have a full night ahead of us, so let’s get started.” 

Shiro blinks and they no longer stand in the office of Nightside but somewhere eerily similar. The room is dim and there is a writing desk and a blackened throne made of bone and remains covered in a multitude of jackets and clothes. A four-poster bed stands behind a tall divider and a television is mounted across from it. The ground trembles slightly beneath Shiro’s loafers and finally he realizes they’re no longer on Earth at all.    
They’re in Hell. 

“This is… Hell,” Shiro says slowly. He hasn’t been in Hell since Lucifer’s reign but this is not how he remembers it. 

“This is my room,” Keith explains. “There’s  _ more _ to Hell than this but this used to be Lucifer’s throne hall and I converted it into my bedroom.” 

“Not… quite how I remember it,” Shiro falters. The last time he’d been in Hell, he’d gone for a personal reason. 

He can still smell the brimstone and remember the red wasteland. Faceless lesser demons nipping his heels but his angelic armor kept them at bay. Lucifer standing with his newly fallen army of angels, mutilating their wings and grace. 

The screams. 

The look in Kuron’s eyes. 

“Feathers,” Keith says and snaps his fingers under Shiro’s nose. 

Shiro startles from his memory. He can still feel the scorching, damning kiss on his lips. “What?” 

“You went away,” Keith says in a surprisingly soft voice. 

“I didn't go anywhere,” Shiro protests flatly. 

“I don’t mean physically but mentally you weren’t here.” 

“It’s nothing.” Shiro shakes his head. He has no desire to confess to a demon even as the smell of burning wings is dredged up by bitter memories. 

“You can tell me.” Keith walks over to the bed to take off his boots and then sit with his legs folded toward him, hands in his lap. The position highlights his vessel’s youth but a closer look reveals the hideous form inside. 

Demons are ugly, skeletal beasts and Keith is no different. His face stretched thin with sharp cheekbones and a mouth full of sharp teeth almost too large for his face. Tattered, bat-like wings drape behind him and his skin blackened and scarred. His eyes glow red, horns twisting from the top of his head, one is broken while the other is still knife sharp. Shiro wonders if Kuron is so ugly now or if he’s maintained his angelic beauty. 

“You’re staring, Feathers. Like what you see?” Another smarmy smirk flashes across the demon’s face.

Shiro snorts. “No. You are truly hideous.” 

Once more, Keith loses his smug attitude and his face falls. “Oh… I see.” He seems so crestfallen, Shiro feels something akin to guilt fill him but Keith shakes it away and wears a fake smile. “Well, not all of us can win beauty pageants like you, Feathers.”

Shiro squints and frowns. Keith seems to be upset but demons do not have feelings to wound so he tucks it away to ponder later like the flowers. “Are we doing something or not?” 

“Yes.” Keith turns the TV on and snaps his fingers. The smell of salt and butter fill Shiro’s nose and the TV displays a cartoon. “Sit. SIt.” 

Shiro sighs and sits precariously on the end of the bed beside Keith. A large tub of crunchy, buttery snacks sits on Keith’s lap and he shovels handfuls into his mouth. Neither of them requires mortal sustenance but Shiro admits the smell is good. 

“Try some.” Keith tilts the tub toward him and Shiro reluctantly tries a piece. “Good, right? They call it popcorn.” 

Three handfuls later and Shiro realizes he likes popcorn or maybe his vessel does. Either way, Keith has materialized another tub just for him and he’s eagerly eating his own popcorn instead of sharing. The cartoon on the TV doesn’t make sense but everytime a new episode comes on, Keith sings the theme softly, and when Shiro glances the demon’s way, he seems enraptured and happy. 

Can demons feel happy? 

Can demons feel  _ anything _ ? 

The ground shakes hard enough to rumble the bed and sift dust from the ceiling drawing Shiro from his thoughts. Muffled shouting makes him frown and fill with dread. He’d almost forgotten he’s in Hell, watching cartoons with a demon while tortured souls suffer beneath his feet. 

He wonders if the ones screaming are the hundred thousand he dealt away like playing cards. 

“What was that?” Shiro asks even though he knows the answer. 

“That– Oh, just bad plumbing,” Keith laughs but Shiro stares at him with a look that says he doesn’t believe him. “It’s not your worry, Feathers. Just business. You know the bylaws – bad people go to Hell and suffer, good people, go to Heaven and have eternal happiness. I may make Hell look like fun but I am still a demon and this place is no permanent vacation.” 

“The real Hell is down there?” Shiro asks and gestures to the floor.

“Yes.” 

“Show me.”

“ _ No _ .” Keith shakes his head sharply. “This is my night and I say anime and popcorn. Maybe some suck.” 

Shiro pauses and has a feeling he’s going to regret his next question. “Some… what?” 

“Some suck, you know…” Keith trails off and raises his fist near his mouth, his tongue jutting against his cheek, while he bobs his head. 

Shiro has no idea what that means. 

“Is that some sort of… demon code?” he asks. 

Keith’s hands drop and he hangs his head in disappointment. “It means  _ blowjob _ . Don’t you watch porn– wait,” Keith holds up a hand to stop Shiro from speaking. “Don’t answer that, I  _ know _ the answer.” 

“This is of sexual nature, yes?” Shiro asks slowly. 

“Yes. Feathers, are you a virgin?” Keith narrows his eyes, curiosity seeping from him like smoke. 

Shiro blushes and looks into the empty popcorn bucket. Butter congealed at the bottom is an unpleasant view but better than giving Keith an opening. “I have never had sexual occasion if that is your question,” he admits shyly. 

“Big,  _ hot _ angel like you never saw another angel and thought you wanted to do some cloud seeding?” Keith continues and only further makes him blush. 

“No– Angels are genderless, we do not think of such mortal pleasures.” Shiro keeps his gaze fully focused on the popcorn and  _ not _ meeting Keith’s eyes. His mind briefly traipses to Kuron but he shoves the thought away. Kuron’s sin is not his own. 

“Pity,” Keith pouts. “Most demons would look forward to taking you apart.” 

This time, Shiro does look at Keith curiously. “And you?” 

“Well, I like a  _ willing _ partner and I am a patient demon. I’ve already waited 300 years, so I suppose 300 more and I'll finally be at first base.” Keith smiles and the softness to the gesture leaves Shiro confused. 

“A joke,” he says, trying to keep up with Keith’s humor.

Keith laughs. “I  _ hope _ so. 300 more years, I may  not make it, Feathers.”

Shiro feels himself smile but quickly wipes it away. The night is soon ending and he realizes too late he’s enjoyed every moment. When the clock hits the 24th hour, Shiro rises reluctantly to his feet. He finds it odd Keith would state he wants a piece of him for the deal and then simply sit and watch television all night. 

“Admit it,” Keith says, remaining on the bed, still lying down. 

“Admit what?” 

“You had  _ fun _ .”

Shiro almosts asks Keith what fun is as his own version of a joke but decides to let the demon have this one. “I suppose as much fun as one can have watching a cartoon.” 

“Okay, first of all, it’s Naruto, not a cartoon, and–.” 

“Goodbye, Keith,” Shiro says, turning to go. 

“Wait! Feathers!” Shiro turns to see Keith sit up in alarm. “We should… hang out again. I have a lot more anime I could show you–.” 

“Anna-May is not quite as thrilling for me as it is for you,” Shiro replies. 

Keith’s face falls and he nervously picks at the cuff of his jeans. “Well, you can pick what we do or we can watch something else– I mean, you have to take breaks sometimes, from your angelic duties, right?” 

Shiro knows Keith enjoys his company and up until tonight, he’s only seen Keith as an ugly, annoying parasite. But tonight has been different. 

Interesting. 

“I suppose we could… hang out,” Shiro says, the words strange on his tongue. “Sometime.” 

Keith’s eyes turn red and black, and his face lights up in excitement. “Soon? – Soon, as in next week, not our next lifetime?” 

Shiro sighs. “Next week.”

“I look forward to your call, Feathers.”

Shiro rolls his eyes and flies from Hell to stand on the street outside of Nightside. The sun is rising and the street empty as the club has been for a few hours. He can still taste the salt and butter from the popcorn and for the first time since before man’s creation, Shiro has doubt. 

He’s always been taught to not indulge in mortal pleasures, to not let emotions rule him – he’s an Angel of the Lord, a soldier – but the popcorn and cartoons had been an experience he wanted to repeat. 

Demons showing feelings. Hurt feelings, even.

The look on Keith’s face when he’d called him hideous and he’d quickly attempted to brush it off. The flowers… Shiro re-materializes the dead bouquet and gives them life again. Colors pop and shine as the wilted flowers regrow and bloom in his hands. 

Beautiful. 

A demon saw beauty and tried to share it with him. 

Shiro clutches the flowers closer and flies to a private woodland space he knows they will thrive. He buries them in the soil, knowing the cut flowers will regrow anew given time. The color will look nice in the clearing. 

Doubt continues to plague his mind.

He wonders if this is how Kuron felt before his Fall. Shiro closes his eyes as he remembers the scorch of Kuron’s lips and the forbidden feelings awakened afterward. The way Kuron screamed in fear, his wings catching fire, and his fall immediately from grace. 

Kuron had loved him too much and God had punished him for it. 

Shiro recoils from the flowers, wondering if Keith would cause him to Fall.

He shakes his head in dismissal. There is no more God to cast him out of Heaven and now with the deal done, Shiro has more work to do.

 

* * *

 

Once Shiro left, Keith, flops back on his bed to stare into the dark abyss of the ceiling, a smile stretching his face wide. “He said yes,” Keith whispers to the void before sitting upright. “Kosmo!  _ Kosmo _ !” 

The hellhound appears moments later, nosing into the room, snout to the floor while he sniffs. His acidic drool burns holes in the ground and on Keith’s bedspread when he sniffs his way to Shiro’s now vacant spot. Kosmo smells of sulfur and rot but despite his horrific appearance, Keith keeps his fur soft with regular baths.

“Kosmo,” Keith says, grabbing the hound’s jowls and squishing them back until Kosmo seems to be smiling. “He said we could hang out –  _ next _ week. He’s… so beautiful, Kosmo. Just… thinking about dumb ol’ Feathers makes me happy.” 

Kosmo stares back at him, drool burning Keith’s hands, jagged teeth white in the dark. Keith sighs as he remembers Shiro calling him hideous, which for most demons is a compliment but Keith knows Shiro didn’t mean it as such. He pulls Kosmo’s jowls down until the hound seems to frown and a dismal cloud looms over Keith’s head. 

“He called me hideous,” Keith whispers, slowly letting Kosmo go. “He’s not wrong– I  _ am _ hideous. How could he, an  _ angel _ , ever want a disgusting creature like me?”

Kosmo whines, the sound more like a muffled scream, but Keith knows Kosmo hates to see him sad. 

“I’m fine,” Keith says quickly. “I know what will cheer me up.” He turns and snaps his fingers. The bed fills with twelve boxes of Krispy Kreme donuts hot from the oven. His mouth salivates and he quickly tears through the first box but even after donut number six, his sad mood does not improve. 

The donuts suddenly taste as ash and Keith throws it across the room, rolling onto his stomach in dismay and frustration. “Why doesn’t he like me, Kosmo?” he mumbles but Kosmo is leaving. “Hey! Are you just going to leave me like this, in my fragile mental state?! Stupid mutt.”

The room goes quiet, the only sounds now muffled screeching and screaming from below. The bed trembles as the floor quakes and Keith sighs heavily. He’d worked hard his whole demonhood, clawing to the top, but being king of Hell did not make his life easier. 

Sure, the job comes with power and status but everything is mostly paperwork these days. Admitting souls, sending them to the correct pit – being king is mostly  _ boring _ , even if Feathers did finally notice him.

Sometimes, he misses being a regular crossroads demon – dealing in souls, writing contracts, sending Kosmo to bring him the damned souls leaving their destroyed corpses behind. The simple stuff.

Kosmo reappears then, holding something in his mouth, looking proud as he struts. Keith sits up, swinging his legs to place his feet on the floor. “Oh,  _ now _ you want me–,” he grumbles and rolls his eyes. “I’m not playing fetch.” 

Kosmo drops a shining white feather on the ground. Keith’s eyes widen and he slowly picks it up, holding it delicately in his palm. The feather is the length of his hand and the vein glows softly blue like an angel’s grace. 

He gasps. “Kosmo, did Shiro drop this? For  _ me _ ?” Happiness fills Keith’s chest so suddenly he almost tears up. 

Kosmo’s black tongue lolls from his mouth and he wags his tail as a response. 

“I’ll treasure it forever – thank you, Kosmo. I’m sorry I called you a stupid mutt. You’re  _ not _ a stupid mutt. You’re the best mutt, the most perfect mutt. I  _ love _ you, Kosmo... You’re my only friend in this dingy place.” 

Kosmo rests his head on Keith’s knee and Keith places the feather in his jacket pocket before petting Kosmo’s soft ears. Kosmo stares up at him with as much sympathy as a hellhound can muster which Keith appreciates.

“You know, when I first saw him he was just this  _ bright _ light above in the sky… He was  _ so  _ beautiful and so perfect. I could hardly even look at him, he was so bright and holy– I mean, you were there in that pit, you remember.” Keith scratches Kosmo’s ears and the hellhound thumps his tail harder on the floor. 

“Feathers is the reason I’m even  _ here _ – clawed us out of the pit and knew I’d see him again.” Keith feels a small smile pull his lips. “Now, we’re going to  _ hang out _ , that’s almost a date.” 

Kosmo wags his tail even harder and Keith is glad Kosmo understands the importance of the matter. He debates on staring into the void until Shiro calls when a knock comes to his door. He rolls his eyes and grits his teeth but goes to stand near the throne, waving his hand to open the door. 

Two demons stand on either side, looking nervous and uncertain. “Sir, pardon for disturbing you, but we have a situation…” 

Keith raises an eyebrow. “ _ What _ situation?” 

“There’s a large faction of lesser demons gathering and rioting. They’re claiming they want your head, as you are unfit to rule–.” 

“Lesser than the two of you?” Keith demands, unimpressed. “Where are they?” 

“Currently, Earth. They’ve been terrorizing a small town in Kansas without warrant or instruc–.” 

Keith doesn’t bother to listen to the rest. When he hears Kansas, he senses the demons in question and appears outside of the diner they’ve all congregated inside. The town smells of death and rot, and from the silence, Keith expects the occupants of the town are either dead or possessed. He sighs and walks up to the door, letting himself inside, Kosmo on his heels. 

“He’s not  _ fit _ to rule Hell, we should be taking this time without Lucifer to take back Earth!” a rowdy demon yells from where he stands on top of a table. 

Keith casually walks to the counter to help himself to a lonely glazed donut under a glass display lid. Stale but not so hard he can’t eat it. No one notices him, too enraptured by empty promises. 

“If we take Akira out we can rule this land. No angel could stop us. Demons to rule Earth!” 

The diner explodes with eager applause and once more Keith rolls his eyes while licking his fingers clean. Lesser demons really are idiotic. Once the room clams to a degree, Keith makes his way through the crowd, coming to hop up by the demon on his makeshift soapbox. 

“Hi,” Keith says and the room immediately falls silent. “Mmn, tough crowd, tough crowd – so, let me get this straight, you all want me dead because…?” 

The demons all stare back at him nervously until a small, nervous demon steps forward. “They think you’re weak.” 

“Ah, yes,  _ thank _ you. What’s your name?” 

“Regris.” 

“Thank you, Regris, I may spare your life.” Keith turns to the demon at his side, their ugly leader. He’s wearing a college student with too many zits and wireframe glasses. Not exactly the cause for worry. “And  _ you _ , what’s your name?” 

“Haxus,” the demon spits. 

“Haxus – well, first of all, it’s Keith now, and secondly, do you  _ all _ agree with your buddy up here that I am weak and soft?”

The crowd of demons remains silent and Keith can feel Haxus tense. In the face of real fear and threat, lesser demons are runners. Keith remembers, he used to be one. 

“You see, Haxus,” Keith says, looking him in the eye. “The trouble with trying to  _ rebel _ is you need spine.” He turns to face the crowd again. “You all may find me weak because I like flowers and a certain angel but coming to Earth and destroying it? Without the meat sacks you’re using right now for corporeal bodies, you’re out of work. We  _ need _ them because we deal in their souls. No more humans, no more souls, and you know what we’ll start to feed on without mortals’ souls?” Keith glances from each pair of demon eyes to the next. “Each other.” 

“Spineless,” Haxus hisses. 

“I hope you all enjoy Purgatory,” Keith snarls. 

The room shifts nervously and Keith snaps his fingers. Every demon flickers and their vessels all drop like flies. Only Haxus and Regris remain. Keith turns to face Haxus and feels a rush of joy at the fear in his eyes. 

“You thought I’d just  _ kill _ you after all of that? Oh, no.” Keith tsks and shakes his head. “You killed an entire  _ town _ without my say-so and wished me dead… No, I have a  _ special _ place for you.” 

Haxus attempts to flee his vessel but Keith reaches up to shove him back inside much to the lesser demon’s horror. 

“Kosmo, take him to Room 23, our friend will surely enjoy a new body for his collection,” Keith says, a smirk on his lips as Haxus quickly realizes his fate. Every demon knows about Room 23. 

“Wait!” Haxus panics and trips to the floor on his knees. “Sire, please–.” 

“Oh, shut up.” Keith wraps an arm around Regris and leads him through the sea of corpses while Kosmo drags Haxus back to Hell. “You need a new vessel, this one’s too young.” 

Regris nods and Keith lets go while Regris flees his vessel. Keith keeps walking while the body drops and wonders if Feathers will find him personally responsible for this event. He hopes this incident will not further taint Feathers’ view of him. 

Regris returns to his side in a vessel similar in age to his own, glasses perched on his nose, and cell phone in hand. 

“Did you kill him?” Keith asks. 

“No– I didn’t mean to hurt the last one,” Regris admits. 

Keith shudders. “More power to you, I hate being bunk buddies. This is  _ my _ house when I enter it.” 

“What’s Room 23?” Regris asks. Perhaps, not every demon knows about Room 23.

Keith smirks. “When you were in the pits, did you ever hear the name Kuro?”

“Yes.” 

“Room 23 is his room.” Keith knows he needs no further explanation. “Tell me, Regris, what’s your opinion on donuts?” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting last week Not only did I move but I was sick (still sick tbh but I'm not as bad)

Desert evening air, windows down, a long stretch of road, and his trusted hellhound are a deadly combination in combatting a foul mood. Keith sings along with  _ Bad Moon Rising _ while Kosmo hangs his head from the passenger’s side window. 

Just a demon and his dog.

“There are only two things that can make this moment better, Kosmo. Donuts and hot wings,” Keith says as Krispy Kreme’s sign comes into view on the horizon. 

“Stop calling me hot wings.” 

The serious camber of Shiro’s voice almost causes Keith to startle and flee his vessel. Luckily, he is no spring demon. “Holy  _ Christ _ , don’t  _ do _ that when i’m driving!” 

Shiro sits in the backseat, still dressed ridiculously in the trench coat and suit. Stupid, wonderful angel can’t even dress. Keith makes a mental note to take Feathers shopping. 

“Do not take His name in vain,” Shiro scolds to which Keith sticks his arm out the window and offers the Lord a rude gesture.

“Shove that Holier than thoust bullshit up your tight ass, Feathers,” Keith replies. “You didn’t call last week.” 

Admittedly, his bad mood rested in Shiro  _ not _ calling like he said he would. Hadn’t seen or heard from Shiro in two weeks.

Two weeks, three days, five minutes, twenty seconds – but he isn't counting. 

“I was busy,” Shiro replies shortly. 

“Playing God?” 

“Why do you have a vehicle? You do not need it to travel,” Shiro asks, glancing out the window as the flat landscape goes by. “Do you not feel contained?” 

“I like to drive,” Keith snaps. “It’s comforting. You want some nuggies, Feathers?” 

A McDonald’s looms ahead across from the Krispy Kreme and a quick midnight fast-food snack sounds good. Plus, part of him wants to extend Shiro’s stay. 

“Nuggies?”

“Chicken nuggets. They’re my favorite.” Keith pulls the ‘75 cherry red Mustang into the parking lot and up to the drive-thru window. 

“Order when you’re ready,” comes a bored voice of some poor young adult working minimum wage to pay the bills. Keith can _ feel _ soul dying and has to restrain himself from striking a deal over an intercom. 

“Can I get five 20-piece chicken nuggets, a large Coke, a large Hi-C, three double cheeseburgers, and– what do you want, Feathers?” Keith asks, glancing back at the angel who looks overly serious. Keith almost laughs. 

“A Big Mac,” Shiro replies and then looks startled. 

“Can I also have a number one, large, with another Coke?” 

The girl pauses before asking, unsure, “Is that… all?” 

Keith hums and debates for a moment. “And four apple pies, please. That’s all. Thank you.”

“Um, your total is 40.49.”

“Thanks!” Keith cheerfully pulls around to wait his turn, fishing out cash from his wallet. 

“Are you going to eat  _ all _ of that?” Shiro asks, completely bewildered. 

Keith snorts. “ _ No _ . The cheeseburgers, milkshake, and Coke are for Kosmo. The rest is for me.”

“That’s quite a lot of food,” Shiro remarks. 

“Hey, my vessel was skinny as a rail and now he has some cushion for the pushin’,  _ and _ I go to the gym four times a week.” 

“You go where?” Shiro asks and Keith sighs. 

Angels apparently live under very large rocks.

“It’s how I can eat this much and still look good.” Plus a little demon magic. “You don’t work out?”

“Work… out? No.” Shiro tilts his head which is all kinds of cute.

“So, that massive girth is all homegrown?” Keith whistles and pulls up to the window to pay. “Talk about winning the genetic lottery– Hi.” Keith flashes a charming smile to the nervous girl who had taken his order. 

“H– hi– 40.49, please.” 

Kosmo barks at something in the parking lot, the sound similar to dying screams. “Kosmo, shush– sorry.” Keith hands over exact change and accepts his receipt. “Have a nice night.” 

The girls slams the window shut which Keith is mostly used to – mortals tend to fear him by default when Kosmo tags along even if most of them can’t see the hound at all.

“You frightened that girl,” Shiro says darkly like he’d done something dastardly on purpose. 

“Excuse you, I was Mr. Manners just now but mortals tend to scare easy with Kosmo in the car.” Keith scratches Kosmo’s drooly chin lovingly. “Which is so  _ silly _ because wook at how  _ cwute _ he is. Yes, who’s a good wittle hell doggy? Hm? You! Yes,  _ you _ .” 

“I thought mortals do not have the ability to see hellhounds,” Shiro points out. 

“Most can’t. Sometimes, if they’re touched by Hell in some way they can.” Keith pulls up to accept all of the food, setting the drinks and bags by Kosmo. 

“Your beast is burning your vehicle.” 

Keith turns sharply to see Kosmo drooling on the seat. The leather sizzling and being eaten away by the hellhound’s acidic drool. “Kosmo! Not on the leather, you–.” 

Kosmo gives him the saddest eyes Keith has ever seen, even his teeth pout outward. Keith returns the sad stare until his eyes water and he has no choice but to forgive the dumb lug. “Oh,  _ Kosmo _ , I can never stay mad at you. Let’s take Feathers to our favorite moonlighting spot.” 

Once the food is safely placed, Keith floors it and they squeal out of the parking lot and back to the dusty road. The ride is quiet but Keith isn’t bothered. The night air is chilly and the moon full in the sky lighting the way. Keith drives them up a desert canyon to a picnic spot, parking the car off road so they can enjoy their late night snack. 

“Here?” Shiro asks. 

Keith gathers the food in his arms to set on the picnic table. The view is the reason Keith loves this spot. The town spreads out in the valley below and he feels so elevated like he can reach up to touch the stars. The closest he’ll ever come to Heaven and one of the only places he truly feels infinite. 

“Yes, do you have something against picnic tables?” Keith asks. 

Shiro shakes his head and they all sit. Keith sets Kosmo’s food on the ground, opening the lids of the large Coke and vanilla milkshake but Kosmo turns his nose up to the milkshake.

“I thought you  _ liked _ their milkshakes?” Keith frowns but sets it on the table anyway. “ _ Fine _ , more for me n’ Feathers.” Keith passes Shiro his meal, pleasantly surprised when Shiro digs in. “So, hot wings likes Big Macs? Sexy.” 

Shiro takes a bite and chews eagerly, his face a mask of bliss. “It’s my vessel. He must have liked these.” 

“That’s why I don’t like to be roomies,” Keith explains. “Just kill ‘em and it’s all you. This is  _ my _ temple.” 

“Angels do not kill their vessels,” Shiro snarls. “An angel needs permission to enter a vessel, unlike you.”

“ _ Hey _ , kid sold his soul to me. Seven years later, he calls me up, wants more years because he’s in  _ love _ ,” Keith spits the words out bitterly. “They always want more time but that’s not how contracts work. I could have dragged him to Hell, let my demons torment him, instead, I gave him a better purpose. I killed him quick, he felt no pain.” 

Shiro snorts a sound similar to disdain. “A merciful demon.” 

Keith washes his mouth with the sweet tang of Hi-C. Of course, Feathers has many preconceived ideas of him but demon stereotypes are as boring as the day is long. “Is that so hard to picture? You can pretend to be righteous all you like, Feathers, but in the end, we are exactly the same. Two sides of the same coin.”

Shiro shakes his head, seeming offended. “I am  _ nothing _ like you.” 

Keith slams his food on the table, eyes flickering to red, and voice dropping a few octaves as he becomes serious. “ _ Who _ sold one hundred thousand souls to Hell so he could beat up some angels? Who is killing his own kind on some sort of holy mission? You are  _ just _ like me, maybe even worse. The only difference between you and I, Feathers, is God took a look at you in his right hand and called you Holy and took a look at me in his left and named me damned.” 

Silence flutters down on their heads only interrupted by Kosmo eating the cheeseburgers, wrappers and all. Panic settles in Keith's chest but he keeps his face neutral. The possibility he’d just ruined his chances makes his hands shake so Keith tucks them in his lap. 

He waits for Shiro to disappear. 

And waits.

And waits.

Shiro regards him a little longer before finishing his Big Mac. “May I try this?” Shiro wraps his fingers around the milkshake.

“Um… Yes?” Keith says slowly, still confused as to why Feathers hasn’t taken off. “Knock yourself out, Feathers.” 

Watching Shiro pick up the milkshake to drink quickly and immediately wince from a brain freeze is worth more than any soul in Hell. 

“Ow,” Shiro whispers, touching his forehead. 

“It’s called a brain freeze,” Keith giggles. “Sucks, doesn’t it?” 

“Not pleasant,” Shiro agrees. “But this is good.” He takes a slower drink and Keith places his cheek on the palm of his hand in complete admiration. 

Shiro, angel dork of the Lord. 

His hair shines perfectly white in the moonlight, creating a little halo around his head.  _ Appropriate _ , Keith thinks. “Hey Feathers, do you have a halo? I’ve always wondered if that’s some invisible thing or something made up by Hallmark.”

Shiro blinks and tilts his head again which makes Keith melt into demon goo. “A halo? No. Not in this form.”

“But in another form, you do?” 

“My true form,” Shiro says with a confirming nod. “I also have three heads and seven wings and I’m approximately the size of the mortal’s Chrysler building.” 

Keith blinks and whips out his phone to Google since he has no idea how tall the damn building is. “Holy shit, you’re over one thousand feet tall?” Keith asks, his eyes going wide. “That’s… I want to see.” 

“No,” Shiro says. “You are not holy enough to see my true form. It could overwhelm you.” 

“Kinky.”

“Excuse me?”

Keith sighs. “Nevermind.”

“Keeping up with you is very difficult some days,” Shiro mutters and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“I get that a lot, don’t worry, Feathers. It’s not just you.” Keith finishes off his second box of chicken nuggets, licking his fingers. “Mmm so good.” 

“You’re a bottomless pit.”

“I get that a lot, too.” 

“And it doesn’t make you sick? Eating so much?” 

Keith shakes his head and cracks open the third round. “Nah… So, is this our hang out period or are you just visiting me? Because I think to count as our  _ hang out _ time, you needed to call first.” 

“I don’t have a way to call you,” Shiro says slowly. “I am not sure what you mean… I … I showed up. That is our deal.” 

“Don’t you have a cellphone, Feathers?” 

“No.” 

Keith sighs. “We’ll get you one. My number is easy to remember.” 

“What is it?” 

“Six. Six. Six.” Keith grins. “Clever, right?” 

Shiro sighs. “Yes,  _ clever _ ,” he says, his tone tired and dripping with sarcasm. 

Keith smiles wide but it fades when he feels a pull – familiar and covered in dark magic. “Pardon me, Feathers, but I believe I’m being–.” 

Keith cuts off when he’s no longer sitting across from Feathers but in some dingy, dark room face to face with a young man in plaid and a leather jacket. 

“Summoned,” Keith finishes, eyes roaming the room before focusing on the boy. “How can I help you?” 

“Akira?” the boy asks. 

“It’s Keith now.”   
  
The boy’s eyes filled with pain and rage. “My name is James Griffin and I’ve been looking for you for a long time.” 

Keith waits for further explanation but when none comes, he rolls his eyes, officially annoyed to have been so rudely interrupted. “Look, kid, I deal in souls, so if you’ve summoned me to terrorize your pervy uncle, you’ve got the wrong number.” 

“I  _ know _ what you deal in,” James growls. 

“Okay, well, the traditional summoning is at a crossroads. It's true, I can deal anywhere, but traditionally–.” 

“ _ Shut up _ !” James snaps, voice on the edge of hysterics. 

Keith closes his mouth and steps forward until he feels as if a wall holds him back. Slowly, he raises his head up to see a Devil’s trap painted on the ceiling. James smirks. 

“Clever boy,” Keith muses. “A hunter– so, what exactly  _ do _ you want?”

“You hold Keith Kogane’s contract,” James says. “I want my boyfriend back, you scumbag.”

“Your boyfriend,” Keith repeats, eyes still on the ceiling. 

“The guy you’re walking around in,” James snarls. 

“ _ Oh _ , I see,” Keith remembers the mortal boy begging for more time due to his relationship. “So,  _ you’re _ the one he was babbling on about on Collection Day– well, I’m sorry but I don’t  _ undeal _ contracts. Once you sell your soul, that’s it, not take-backsies.” Keith tucks his hands behind his back to twist a ring to the right, sending a signal to Kosmo for help. 

If he’s lucky, Kosmo will bring Feathers, too. 

“I want Keith  _ back _ .” James splashes liquid in Keith’s face and Keith screeches as his skin burns and heals from the holy water. 

Keith hears Kosmo come in the room and turns to see the hellhound drooling as he snarls. James turns, too, but Keith knows the hunter cannot see him.

Keith laughs and the ceiling shakes until a crack runs through the Devil’s Trap. James’ eyes widen in horror at his mistake. “I'm no regular demon, boy,” Keith says, eyes flashing red and black. “No holy water or a little devil’s trap will hold me long. Interrupt me again and I'll kill you.” 

Kosmo joins him and Keith teleports back to the picnic spot but Feathers is gone. Rage fills Keith as he realizes the good time he was having is over. An agonized, angry scream leaves his breast and he sets the remaining McDonald's on fire. Kosmo whines softly.

“He  _ left _ – he didn’t want to be here in the first place,” Keith snarls. “Fine.  _ Fine _ . If that’s how he’s going to be, I can play hard to get–.” 

“Why is the table on fire?” 

Shiro’s voice startles him as he spins around, eyes wide and widening. Shiro stands on the road, holding a box of Krispy Kremes, his face a mask of confusion. 

“You– you left to get donuts?” Keith asks and snaps his fingers ot put the fire out.

“Well, you like them,” Shiro replies with a shrug. 

“I do…” 

“I did not mean to upset you.” 

“You didn’t!” Keith cries out quickly. 

“I… didn’t? You set the table on fire–.”

“Okay, fine, you did but only because…” Keith trails off to toy with the zipper on his jacket. “Well, I like you.”

Shiro sets the donuts down on the table and sits. “I know. Unfortunately, I also like you.” 

Keith gasps at Feathers’ confession before squinting. “But do you  _ like _ me?” 

“I said that.” 

“No–no– do you  _ like _ -like me?” Keith asks pointedly.

“I… like you,” Shiro says slowly, still confused. 

“But do you  _ like _ me?”

“I said I like you. You’re very slow tonight.”

Keith sighs and hangs his head. “Someone exorcize me.”

“Would you like a donut?” Shiro offers and opens the box. 

Keith nods and reaches into pluck a donut free. “Did you… pay for these?” 

“I found them.” 

Keith pauses. “Where?” If the angel brought him trash donuts he would dunk his head in a vat of holy water.

Shiro gestures to the town. “The establishment bearing the same name.”

The reality makes Keith’s eyes widen with mock scandal. “ _ Feathers _ ,” he gasps. “You  _ stole _ these donuts?”

Shiro blushes and straightens his lapels. “I replaced them.” 

“But you  _ stole _ – isn’t that one of the No-No Commandments?”

“The  _ Ten _ Commandments,” Shiro corrects him darkly.

“Right– thou shalt not covet and steal donuts?” 

Shiro pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do you have an off button?” 

Keith smirks and shoves a donut into his mouth. He’s tickled when Shiro tries one, too. Even licks his fingers clean. 

“So, who summoned you earlier?” Shiro asks after their mutual third donut a piece. 

“Just some kid,” Keith says and tosses Kosmo a donut. 

“Selling his soul?” 

“No… it was nothing. Just demon stuff.” Keith didn’t need Feathers to worry about this James kid. He’d probably talk Keith into giving the boyfriend  _ back _ and completely undermine his authority. His hold on Hell is shaky as it is and he doesn’t need a further scandal to rock the boat.

Shiro hums, clearly unconvinced, but he doesn’t press the matter. “I believe I’ve managed to have fun again,” Shiro says and Keith feels his black heart flutter. “I suppose you aren’t so bad.”

“Hey, careful now,” Keith replies teasingly. “I have a reputation to uphold.” 

“Do you wish to  _ hang out _ again?” Shiro asks.

Keith smiles shyly, still tickled an angel shoplifted donuts for little ol’ him. “Sure, hot wings.” 

Shiro rolls his eyes but Keith catches the faint smile on his lips. “Until we meet again, Keith.” 

The sound of rustling wings leaves Keith’s heart heavy as Shiro disappears. Keith pouts at the remaining donuts, dragging his nail over the picnic table, burning K  ♥  S in the wood forlornly. Feathers  _ said _ he liked him but Keith isn’t convinced the angel feels the same way he feels. 

Kosmo whines and places his head on Keith’s lap, always aware when Keith is sad. He pats Kosmo’s head and feeds him the last two donuts. The world feels so still without Feathers by his side. Nothing seems to matter – not torturing souls, ruling Hell or being bad if Shiro isn’t around. 

Keith slowly stands once the donuts are gone to go back to the car, staring numbly out of the windshield. “I have to pull myself together, Kosmo. I can’t always let him affect me like this. I’m the  _ King of Hell _ , not some low-grade demon. Why does he have this hold on me?”

Kosmo leans into him and Keith accepts the dog hug.

“Yeah… I know. He has me all weak in the knees. Stupid Feathers.”

Kosmo huffs and Keith pulls his emotions together enough to drive back down to the main road. The wind blows through Keith’s feathery hair and Kosmo throws his head back to howl at the moon. Keith hopes Shiro can hear his song.    
  


* * *

 

“ _ There _ you are,” Matt says as Shiro straightens his tie in a mirror. “I have been trying to find you.” 

Shiro slowly turns to face Matt, one of his only friends left from his garrison. “Have you tracked down Michael?” 

“No,” Matt says. “We’ve been searching for the archangels but they just send their cronies, which is why I’ve been trying to find you. We have some new information.” 

New information? He kicks himself for missing something important while traipsing Earth-side with a demon. “What new information?”

“You remember Allura.” 

Shiro nods. Allura used to be part of his garrison until she was swayed by the archangels. “Has she returned?” 

“Yes.” 

One word sounds so grave and weighs heavily on his mind. The words  _ trap  _ and  _ liar _ come to mind but Shiro dismisses them. The archangels wouldn’t send a lowly foot soldier to do their dirty work – not when they knew the danger Shiro now imposes.

“I assume she has much to say,” Shiro says. 

“She did. We tried to wait for you but– where  _ have _ you been anyway?” Matt asks with narrowed eyes. 

Thoughts of Krispy Kremes, red mustangs, and an ugly dog fill Shiro’s mind. Even a smile creeps to his face

“Shiro…” 

“I was out,” Shiro replies neutrally. “With a… friend. You don’t know them.”

Matt’s eyes narrow further. “You were with that demon again, weren’t you?” 

“His  _ name _ is Keith.”

“Are you aware you’re on a first-name basis with a demon?” Matt asks. “Are you also aware how  _ insane _ that is? You know how demons are–.” 

“No,” Shiro whispers, shaking his head. “We’ve been  _ told _ how demons are Matthew but what do we truly know?” 

“Shiro–.” 

Shiro looks down slowly turning to face the mirror again. “Keith is not like any other demon I’ve met… He likes popcorn and donuts. He showed me Anna-May and despite his penchant for talking too much, Keith is genuinely a… nice demon.” 

Matt snorts in disbelief. “No such thing.”

“He isn’t like the others,” Shiro insists. “I find myself enjoying my time with him. I… took donuts for him.” He remembers the bewildered look on the worker’s face when he’d popped in, grabbed a box, replaced it, and then left in a manner of seconds. Part of him is still unsure why he’d done it but deep down he knows why. 

Seeing Keith smile brings him joy.

“You  _ like _ him,” Matt whispers. “And I don’t mean in a casual like us being friends way. I mean, as in, you would kiss him.”

Shiro wrinkles his nose. “You’ve not seen him–.”

“Look, we all know demons are ugly but look beyond that. I’ve heard rumor his vessel is pleasing,” Matt cuts him off. “I can’t believe you have a crush on a demon.”

“I do not! He is a friend. Annoying but endearing,” Shiro says firmly. “I want no further remarks on the matter.”

“Sir, yes, Sir,” Matt replies with a mock salute. “Do you want to hear what Allura has to say now?” 

“Yes.”

They leave Heaven and fly to a remote spot in Northeastern Canada. Heaven is not safe for interrogation and while Earth is also vulnerable, it’s not nearly as risky as Heaven. Allura sits in a chair, bound by inscribed shackles, and surrounded by the remainder of Shiro’s garrison as guards. 

“Allura,” Shiro greets as neutrally as he can. A pang in his chest reminds him of how they used to be allies. Friends, even. 

“Shiro… I know we did not part on good terms and I know you have no reason to trust me but after hearing the archangels’ plans…” Allura flinches and Shiro wonders what could be so terrifying to make her so afraid. 

“They will know you’ve come,” Shiro points out. 

“They don’t care. They told me to go… They revel in it.” 

Shiro frowns. “Why? What are they planning?” 

“At first, their war was about control – they know God is gone but then Michael spoke of God’s  _ plan _ ,” Allura says, the last words spat like poison. 

“Which plan?” 

“They wish to free Lucifer from his cage in Hell and start the Apocalypse. They believe it is God’s plan and it will bring peace here but it will only bring  _ ruination _ ,” Allura whispers, eyes far away. “I don’t know how they plan on it, they didn’t say, but they are so  _ sure _ . Shiro, you  _ must _ stop them!” 

Cold dread spreads across Shiro’s body and he has to leave the room and stand outside. Sunlight dapples through the tree leaves, turning them brilliant shades of red and orange. The archangels, God’s favorites, charged with protecting the Earth wish to destroy it and with it all of the life within. This beautiful, wondrous place obliterated for the archangels’ pleasure. 

“Crazy, right?” comes Matt’s voice as he joins him outside. “What are you going to do?” 

A small squirrel dashes along in front of them, scurrying quickly for the trees. Shiro watches as a hawk swoops in and carries the unsuspecting squirrel away. 

“Do you see how life here thrives on balance?” Shiro asks, turning to look Matt in eyes. “I think it is time to remind our brothers that they, too, are subject to balance.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Have you ever heard something so beautiful?”

Vivaldi’s  _ Four Seasons _ intermixes with screams and cries for mercy – his favorite kind of score. 

“ _ Please _ ,” the demon begs. “No more– I’ve learned my les _ sON _ !

Kuro smiles as the demon’s plea turns into a scream while he injects him with holy water through a syringe. A crucifix rests on the lesser demon’s chest, dually holding him down on the rack, and burning his flesh. 

Kuro’s tattered wings drag across the floor of Room 23, gathering blood, dust, and dirty but Kuro gave up on his appearance a long time ago. His mind shattered by stronger demons during his fall from grace twisted him into the beast he is today, and now, he is the most feared torturer in Hell. 

Kuro conducts casually, picturing the sight of autumn and winter, his favorite seasons. “Do you love autumn?” he asks the lesser demon. “I miss it. I miss  _ Earth _ .”

Kuro hums, the sound of the chain jingling around his ankle a reminder of his crime. Trapped in Hell for eternity, a fallen angel tortured by Lucifer in the flesh. Kuro laughs the sound as sharp and cutting as a barbed whip. 

Lucifer. 

Kuro turns to peer through the darkness of Room 23, yellow eyes glowing in the dark, as he focuses on the shadows. He cannot see the cage but he can hear Lucifer rattle the bars in rage. A grin slithers across Kuro’s face. 

“I– I can take you to Earth,” the demon gasps through swollen lips. “It’s autumn now– I can show you–.” 

Kuro wheels back around, having almost forgotten the lesser demon is in the same room and grasps the demon’s jaw in clawed fingers. “I will never leave Hell again, as is my  _ punishment _ . Never to see Earth again.  _ Your _ punishment is to be tortured by me!”

_ Does the punishment fit the crime?  _ Whispers Lucifer and Kuro flinches as the fallen archangel visits his mind. 

“ _ Shut up _ ,” Kuro growls. 

“I didn’t say anything,” the demon whispers back. 

“Not  _ you _ !” Kuro slaps the imbecile across the face and grabs a silver knife to plunge into his eye for good measure. The demon screams in agony, more music to his ears. 

_ God always punishes us who only seek love _ , Lucifer continues in his head.  _ I know you miss him.  _

Kuro turns to scream, rattling and pulling the chain keeping him bound to Hell, but it does not budge. It has never budged. Tears stream down his face in broken memories. 

_ He’s on Earth. Set me free and I will bring him to you _ . 

“ _ No _ ,” Kuro growls. “You’re  _ lying _ !” 

_ He conspires with demons now. He chose  _ filth _ over you _ .

Another scream rips from Kuro’s throat and he drowns out Lucifer's voice with louder music. The demon he’s currently torturing looks more afraid and Kuro prepares to continue the torture session when the door to Room 23 opens and the King of Hell walks in. 

_ That demon _ , Lucifer hisses. 

Kuro ignores Lucifer in favor of ripping the demon’s fingernails out one by one. “How many I help you?” Kuro asks of Keith.

“I was just wondering how  _ this _ is going,” Keith replies, looking down at the demon curiously. “Has he given any other names? Where there’s one group of revels, there’s bound to be another. They’re like cockroaches, refusing to die.” 

“No,” Kuro replies shortly.

Keith sighs heavily. “Of course. I have a date with hot wings but my friend Regris will be in periodically.” 

The demon coughs and turns his head slowly to look at Keith. “This– is why– you  _ shouldn’t _ be– King– con–sorting– with– _ angels _ –.” 

Keith snarls but Kuro grabs the demon by the neck and lifts him to dunk his body in a vat of holy water, holding him there while he struggles, and the water sizzles. 

_ Ask him  _ which _ angel _ , Lucifer whispers. 

Kuro turns curious eyes to Keith who is readying to walk away. “Wait,” he calls. 

“ _ What _ ?” Keith snaps. “I have a date, I’m already late, and Shiro tends to get antsy.” 

Shiro.

The name shatters the remaining wall in Kuro’s mind and the memories come flooding back full force. Spending time in Heaven, bonding with Shiro, guiding him, loving him more deeply than anything else. Kuro remembers his crime – a kiss. 

A kiss in the Garden. 

As soon as he placed his lips on Shiro’s, his wings caught fire, and he burned. The pain had been excruciating but the look on Shiro’s face as he fell had been worse. The lake of fire burned all around and Lucifer sent his demons to collect him like a broken plaything. For two thousand years in Hell, Lucifer had him tormented until he finally broke. The tortured became the torturer with a new name. 

His name. 

His  _ real _ name is Kuron. 

The broken weight of Kuro, a defense mechanism from his time in Lucifer’s grasp, sloughs off heavily like dead, wet skin. Keith has access to Shiro and has kept him away. The demon in his hands has gone still and Kuron throws the corpse aside. 

_ Let me free _ , Lucifer whispers, a tantalizing tickle in his ear.  _ And you will see Shiro again _ .

 

* * *

  
  
  
  


Keith is late. 

While this is no indication of enthusiasm or lack thereof, Shiro feels slightly offended the demon would leave him outside in a parking lot with no indication of when he would be arriving. Shiro sighs, debating on returning to his previous whereabouts when Keith suddenly appears by his side. 

“FInally,” Shiro says, arms crossed. 

“ _ Sorry _ ,” Keith replies. “I have a life, Feathers. A kingdom to run.” 

“What is this place?” Shiro asks, looking up at the large conglomeration of buildings of buildings curiously.

“This, Feathers, is a mall,” Keith says with a large grin, almost as wide as his entire face. “It’s where mortals go to buy overpriced material goods. It’s also the home of the cell phone store I usually frequent. Come on.” 

Keith grabs his arm and unceremoniously drags him in through a pair of glass doors sliding open of their own volition. The mall is packed with people, loud colors, brightly lit stores, and so many smells SHiro cannot identify them all. Many shops are decorated with faux autumn leaves and pumpkins to signal the season. 

The first place they stop is a Starbucks. Shiro knows this establishment because Matt has a taste for coffee. Keith is chattering away but he hasn’t been paying close enough attention to follow along. 

“Hi! Welcome in, what can I get you?” the cheery barista asks. 

“Can I have a venti iced pumpkin spice latte with whole milk, please?” Keith asks. “Feathers, what do you want?” 

Shiro blinks owlishly once he realizes Keith is addressing him. “I’m not sure.” 

Keith snorts. “He’ll have the same. Extra whip.” 

“Sure. Anything else?” 

“No. Thank you.” Keith hands over more cash and Shiro is afraid to find out where Keith earns his money. Being King of Hell certainly wasn’t paying him. 

“Name?” 

“Keith and Feathers,” Keith replies with a happy smile. 

“They’ll be right up.” 

Keith pulls Shiro to a table to wait, smiling, always smiling. 

“I have a name,” Shiro reminds him. “It’s Shiro. Not Feathers or hot wings.”

“You like it,” Keith says. 

He sighs. 

The demon is right even if Shiro doesn’t want him to be. 

“Admit it.” 

“No.” 

Keith opens his mouth to argue but the barista calls their names. “Saved by the bell, Feathers,” Keith says before sliding out to grab their very large cups. 

Shiro tries not to smile. In fact, he covers his mouth with a hand to stop one from blooming. Keith, despite being someone he should hate, makes his stomach flutter in strange ways. Matt called it a crush but Shiro is not sure how to classify the feelings Keith gives him. 

More doubt plagues his mind.

“Okay, here is your iced latte. They’re very good, trust me, you’ll love it,” Keith says and hands over the cold cup. 

Shiro sniffs the cup once before putting the straw between his lips to sip in curiosity. Keith’s is already half gone, a white mustache on his upper lip. The demon’s pierced tongue slips free to lick the whipped cream lodged there away and Shiro sucks down his drink mindlessly while watching. 

“You’re  _ staring _ again,” Keith hums. 

“Where else am I to look?” he counters. 

“I don’t know – the  _ world _ ? I like to people-watching.” Keith finishes off his drink with a satisfied slurp. “Mm, delicious. Ready to go cellphone shopping, Feathers?” 

Shiro nods, straw returning to his lips, despite the cup almost being empty. Keith takes Shiro up to a set of moving stairs which seem inherently lazy but they do allow him to finish sucking down his drink. By the time they walk up inside the red cellphone store, Shiro can feel his vessel’s heart slamming into his chest, his wings keep quaking, and he’s never felt so  _ awake _ . 

The feeling is mildly terrifying. 

“Keith,” the salesman greets. “ _ Another  _ new phone? That makes this, what? Number six this month?” 

Shiro spins in a circle slowly – the lights seem  _ loud _ and he’s pretty sure he can hear colors. 

“Not for me,” Keith says. “My pal here. Just put him on my plan. You have anything potentially fireproof?” 

“Uh… no…” the salesman says. Larry, the nametag reads.

“Okay. Just get him an iPhone. Like a 7 Plus, he’s got big hands.” 

Shiro wonders over to a screen displaying colorful photos and tries to ignore the vibration in his wings. He reaches out to touch the screen and a spark flies from his fingertip, immediately frying the display device. Smoke trails up his nose and the smell of burnt plastic fills the corner of the room. 

“ _ Feathers _ ,” Keith hisses. “ _ What _ are you doing?” 

Shiro spins around and tries to look innocent. “What? Nothing.” 

Keith sighs. “Go outside and wait for me before you break the whole store.” 

Obedience is in Shiro’s nature so he steps back out to look at all of the passers-by instead. Skylights overhead light up the walkway with filmy sunshine. Shiro’s wings continue to shake and while he wants to fly around the room like a bird in a cage, he settles for walking quickly toward a new store colorful and bright. 

Small children run around his legs and the walls are lined with plushy multicolored creatures. A woman greets him but he ignores her in favor of lifting a soft plush of a thin, skeleton man. The head is round with a large skeletal smirk and the eyes turned down deviously. The mysterious man reminds him so starkly of Keith he doesn’t think twice before sliding the toy into his jacket and making another appear in its place. 

In a ruffle of wings, Shiro leaves the store and returns to Keith’s side. Larry startles, as does the woman now behind Keith waiting in line. She screams and Shiro sighs, turning to place two fingers on her forehead to replace the memory and keep her distracted. 

Larry’s eyes flick black before Shiro reaches out to give him the same treatment. “Almost done,” Larry says with a forced smile. 

Keith leans over to sniff his trenchcoat. “You smell like… happiness.” 

The plush in his inner pocket rests warmly as a reminder and Shiro pulls it free to hand over to Keith with a soft smile. “This reminded me of you.” 

Keith gasps and snatched it from his hands in disbelief. Seeing the demon happy gives Shiro all kinds of warmth in his stomach and chest. Usually, disdain is the only feeling easily conjured around demons but lately, everything is changing. 

“You stole this, didn’t you?” Keith asks with a snort. “Wow, Feathers, I really am a bad influence on you.” 

He could practically hear Matt agree. 

“Okay,” Larry announces. “All setup.” 

Keith takes the phone before Shiro can and they leave. Keith taps away on the phone, the skeleton man in the crook of his arm. People openly stare at them but Shiro is too busy keeping Keith from walking into trash cans to comment. 

“Okay, I programmed my number into your favorites and put my picture, see, as the image,” Keith announces and Shiro finally accepts the phone in its bulky casing. 

_ Keith _

Shiro snorts and also notes Keith has also put himself as the background image of the phone.

“I’ve also downloaded Candy Crush and Words with Friends, so when I need more lives, you can send me some,” Keith says and points to the colorful square. “See?” 

“Hm.” He doesn’t have the heart to tell Keith he doesn’t know what those are. Another Starbucks comes into view and his mouth waters for another cold drink. “Keith, may we get more drinks?”

“Hm?” Keith looks around until he spots the Starbucks. “Oh, sure. DO you want another pumpkin spice latte?” 

“Yes.” Pumpkin spice lattes. A mortal concoction but he’s certain he likes it more than popcorn. More doubt. It weighs heavy on his mind while Keiht orders and pays for two more drinks. This time, Keith’s is much smaller and red in color. “You did not get the same?” 

“Oh, no, I don’t need all of that espresso.” 

“Espresso?” 

“It’s basically straight caffeine. Keeps me up all night and unlike some beauty pageant winners – that’s you, Feathers – I need my eight hours of beauty sleep to look this good,” Keith explains and Shiro doesn’t miss the dig from a previous conversation. The one where he’d called Keith hideous. 

And the demon  _ is _ hideous. 

The teeth, the smell, the malnourished body, the wings – everything about Keith is disgusting. His vessel is beautiful but Keith is not his vessel, whether he deigns himself to be or not. 

Despite all of that, Shiro wonders if demons do, in fact, have feelings because Keith clearly held onto the old conversation. Keith thoroughly enjoys human pleasures which he used to think made demons unholy scum. Now, Shiro wonders if demons’ love of mortal pleasures makes them  _ more _ human and understanding. 

“Here.” Keith hands his drink over when it’s ready and they resume their walk through the mall. “Penny for your thoughts?” 

His thoughts were a dangerous place and in the wrong hands a lethal weapon. He crafts a lie but then his eyes fall onto the plush skeleton man still in the crook of Keith’s arm. Maybe his thoughts in Keith’s hands were safe. 

“I’m having doubts,” he admits slowly.

“Doubts?” 

“About my teachings as a seraph.” 

“ _ Oh _ . Existential doubt…  _ Yikes _ .” Keith grimaces. “Sounds  _ extra  _ painful for you, hot wings.” 

“Hm, yes – I’m a soldier and my job is to obey but there are so many things in my life that do not make sense right now.” 

Keith glances at him shyly and Shiro sees the question before Keith asks it out loud. “Like hanging out with a demon?”

The correct answer – as in technicalities – is yes, but the correct answer – as in emotional response – is no and Shiro wrestles with both. The technical answer feels like what he would have said a few weeks ago but the other answer feels right. Protecting Keith’s easily bruised feelings feels correct. 

“No, this has been less…  _ odd _ ,” Shiro replies. “I enjoy our time together.” That much is true. 

“Oh. Good – do you want to discuss it? The other weird things in your life?” 

In part, he does want help parsing through everything but before he can open up, he hears an angry voice calling his name. The rage is so loud, the glass in the above skylight shatters and crashes down, breaking lights, and cutting wires on the way down. People run, screaming, as they attempt to clear the way as the large pieces of glass fall to the ground. Keith has dropped his drink and the plush to cover his bleeding ears and he falls, curling up on the ground. An angel’s true voice and clearly he is the only one who understands it. 

Before coming to the mall, he’d been busily cutting down Raphael’s guard to draw him out. From the sound of it, Raphael had chosen now to fight. The mall trembles and people scream and flee in fear, quickly emptying the area as more glass in shop windows shatter from the strength of Raphael’s voice. The room is saturated with fear and the smell of electricity from exposed wiring. 

Keith remains on the ground and Shiro steps over him protectively, angel blade dropping into his hand. Out of the dust, Raphael appears, stepping forward, eyes glowing a dangerous blue. 

“Shiro,” Raphael says, voice deep and dark. “What have you done?” 

“I could turn the question back to you, brother,” Shiro replies solemnly, ready to defend Keith if necessary. “Starting the Apocalypse?” 

Raphael is the weakest archangel but Shiro knows he can still pack a punch. Despite his new power, he still is only a seraphim. 

“Not yet,” Raphael replies before sighing with a kind of exasperation only an older sibling gives to the younger. “Come now, Shiro, you act as if we do something nefarious.” 

“You are.” 

“No. It is our Father’s plan and we will see it through.”

“ _ You _ are not God,” Shiro growls and steps closer. 

“Neither are you,” Raphael counters with a coldness that runs down Shiro’s spine. 

“I’m protecting Heaven–.” 

“No,” Raphael roars. “You protect a  _ demon _ . Look at you, Shiro. Running around Earth with a pitiful  _ rat _ . We are better than them, Shiro. Better than humans and demons alike, and soon, once we slay Lucifer, peace will befall the Earth.” 

Madness.   
  
The words out loud were even more insane coming from Raphael. “You’re insane,” Shiro whispers. “You will cause all life to be  _ destroyed _ , Raphael. Surely, you can see this is madness.” 

“I’m not mad, Shiro,” Raphael says with a smile so devoid of anything but darkness Shiro feels colder. “I’m  _ Enlightened _ .” 

There is no further warning before Raphael is flying at him and their blades collide. Shiro was trained in fighting by Raphael which made them a relatively equal match but Raphael is still an archangel. Raphael gains the upper hand, shoving Shiro backward, and slicing his blade across Shiro’s chest. Shiro gasps and falls back, blade slipping from his fingers, as he reaches up to touch where his vessel bleeds and his own grace shines through. 

Raphael chuckles and approaches with a grin on his face. “Weak Shiro, not even a demon deal can help you defeat us.” 

Shiro goes to raise his blade only to realize he’d dropped it in the fight. His eyes widen as Raphael raises his own blade but the sound of a knife plunging through flesh make them both look down. Shiro’s angel blade sticks out from Raphael’s chest. A bright light fills Raphael’s eyes and mouth and his grace burns out with a high pitched ringing. 

Shiro’s jaw falls open as Raphael drops to the floor and his wings scorch the tile and wall. Keith stands to hold Shiro’s missing blade, bleeding from the nose and ears. “He talks too much,” Keith pants and offers his hand to Shiro. “Let’s go, I want a 20-piece from McDonald’s.” 

Shiro stares in disbelief and heat flies down to puddle in his pelvis but he grasps Keith’s hand anyway. He doesn’t recognize this new feeling but he’s sure Matt will be able to explain it later. “Can I have my angel blade back now?” he asks. 

Keith picks up his dropped plush and dusts it off. “Nah,” the demon replies with a smirk. “Think I'm gonna keep it. Kinda like the boyfriend shirt, you know?”

“The… what?” 

Keith goes to explain and then shakes his head. “C’mon, I’ll tell you later. I’m starved.”   
  
Shiro sighs, having no choice but to follow, especially since he needs his blade back. “Keith… Keith… I’m going to need that back…  _ Keith _ !” 

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on [tumblr](http://pining-sheith.tumblr.com/) & [twitter](https://twitter.com/xenogl0ssia)


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